Coeus
by Mossberg
Summary: In a remote lab funded by Umbrella, an intelligent Tyrant-class B.O.W. code-named Coeus is being developed. However, as always, things go horribly wrong. This story was written by two authors, Mossberg and McCainSr. Unfinished. Chapter 3 is a fragment.
1. Foreword

Foreword 

This was a story started back around late 2002, as a result of me and fellow author McCainSr wanting to write something together. He was rather enthusiastic about it and came up with the idea for the story and was responsible for most of the writing. Anyway, as things progressed we became more and more bored with the thing. It had all been done before… a lab where an outbreak occurs and everyone is pretty much meat for the test subjects. Then there's the standard heroic SWAT team leader and the mad scientist. 

Our story focused on a Tyrant prototype named Coeus, one who had a near-human level of intelligence left intact. Of course, he breaks free and wreaks havoc. There wouldn't be a story if he didn't. But I and McCain grew tired of writing the story. I for one lost interest after writing the flashbacks of Coeus' previous life. So there you have it, an unfinished fanfic made by two authors. 

- Mossberg


	2. Stan

COEUS 

by McCainSr and Mossberg

** STAN**

"Stan." Joe called out into the hallway. The lanky, balding tall man didn't seem to notice. His downcast, fixed eyes conveyed no message, no life. They seemed to be deadened, as though robbed of their senses. 

Stanley Morris continued to mop, dragging the fibrous coils of thread across the dingy tiled floor of the Umbrella complex. "Stan," Joe repeated, his tone with thinner patience this time. Stanley blinked, his jaw hardened in thought. His vacant eyes began to illuminate. He turned to Joe, mouth absently dropping partly open. 

"There you are," Joe continued. "About time. I'm done in the boardroom. Finish mopping this area and turn in. Tomorrow's the evaluations. So do well, but hurry it up."

Stanley nodded in a mentally distant fashion, then returned his thirsty mop to the bucket of cold water. Joe watched the man, his eyebrows tight against each other, trying to understand his peer's behavior patterns. Joe, like many others, had tried to understand Stanley Morris, but to no avail. Joe heard the shrill cries of the MA-121s in the distance, and watched Stanley's eyes burn with intention. Whatever was wrong with Stanley disturbed Joe. It also unsettled many of the lab personnel. Joe remained for a second, then left, shaking his head with disgust. "Crazy fuck."

Stanley didn't flinch or respond. The thoughts of Stanley Morris were elsewhere, somewhere focused deeper within the lab… hidden in the distant rooms that Stanley was never permitted to enter. There in that room lie the creature of Stanley's desires: the perfect being. Stanley's mop stilled and he froze in place, his body idling as he recalled the majestic beast of his imagination. Human in form, yet with greater potential – it had look of a natural man, undiminished by the coddling of technology, perfected through sheer power and bloodlust. It was the predator in its purest form, allowed to evolve into a paragon, a work of mother nature's artistry. And they confined it to a tube. 

Stanley stepped one foot through the doorway, entering the dark laboratory room. He extended his hands out, letting his fingertips act as warning to what kept him from his companion. In the far corner of the lab, the gentle azure glow crept across the walls, reaching out to Stanley, as if welcoming him back. 

"Coeus," Stanley's high unstable voice cracked. "I have returned, as I promised." Stanley walked within sight of the stasis tube, letting the monstrosity flow into his eyes. 

Stanley's face brightened, a smile stretching his lips. The Tyrant class Bio Organic Weapon called Coeus loomed before him: a nine foot tall hulking man with an external heart, muscular body, an enlarged cranium with ridges along his eye sockets, and a gargantuan claw of a left hand. Stanley took a seat before the monster. The thing floated gently in suspended animation as it had for months.

"I'll admit that I am late. I apologize. Joe wasn't mopping fast enough." The beast sank in the liquid, a bubble of air leaving its face. "I came as soon as I could."

Stanley looked behind him suddenly, glancing frantically to the door. He closed his eyes for a full second, and then reopened them, studying the entrance. He sighed when he was certain it was clear. 

"So, Coeus. Where did we leave off?" Stanley smiled again, scooting his chair closer to the Tyrant. "Ah yes, I was telling you about my wife." Stanley suddenly broke into laughter. "Yes, still! I tell you Coeus, it seems like only a few days ago when I was telling you how beautiful she was. I guess those days are over." The man huffed. "The divorce is now actually in progress. The evil whore's even taking my daughter away from me. How can anyone be so heartless?"

Stanley looked down in a flash of hatred. "I know how. It's called humanity. All people are this way, Coeus. Believe me. There is no one in this world that will help you. It's terrible. You know how long it's been since I've seen sunshine? I came here in _October_. The last thing I saw of the outside world was my wife in that orange and red sundress, waving goodbye to me as I was brought here. I thought I'd see her in a month or two, but it's plain to see that just ain't gonna happen. So she gets all venomous and bitchy, saying that if I loved her I'd come home." Stanley stood up from the chair, looking to the tyrant. 

"I don't have that option. I told her once, I told her twice. What is it with the world? Don't they get it anymore? I just wish people could stop killing and hating and trying to get rich by snuffing out others and take out time for love. I hate my wife." Stanley walked up to the stasis tube, touching the glass where the Coeus's chest was. "She's just like Umbrella. They're doing the same thing. Except my wife's doing it to me, Umbrella's doing it to the world."

Stanley scratched his razor-burned chin. "But hey, a paycheck's a paycheck, right?" He looked away from the Coeus for a second, "Just so long as I can stay alive and keep that kid alive, I'll be just fine." Stanley looked to the polished bone claws of Coeus and narrowed his eyes in thought. "It's just like I always said, Coeus. You're special. You're different than those other things. I love them and respect them, don't get me wrong. But I don't talk to them like I talk to you. Talking to them is completely different. I can _feel _your intelligence. I know you're special."

Stanley's eyes dropped down to the clipboard at the side of the stasis tube. "So, what do they have planned for you?" Stanley took the papers into his hands and thumbed through them, pacing the lab. "Let's see here."

Dopamine: 120 ml – 240 ml

T-Virus Injections: 50 cc – 175 cc

"Increased injections of Dopamine and the T-Virus," Stanley noted. "Your future looks bright." Stanley turned to face Coeus. "It looks as though as they're refining you beyond what they originally had planned." Stanley's eyes brightened again. "You know, perhaps with all of this brain juice they're pumping into you, maybe you and I will be able to better relate. Wouldn't that be something, eh?"

Stanley let out a short yawn, held it, then followed with a longer one. "Getting late now, my friend. Tomorrow?" Stanley gazed at the tyrant's closed eyes. The Coeus made no move or means of reply. "I shall look forward to it then."

Stanley tapped the glass gently, the way he gave farewell to Coeus every day of the four months since they'd met. He smiled. "Good night." Stanley was about to turn and leave, but the Tyrant's mouth twitched slightly. Stanley's mouth widened in a delighted grin at this.  Coeus twitched again.

*                                                          *                                                          *

An insect had just buzzed off of Dillon's upper lip, and he invariably panicked for a millisecond, twitching and blinking his right eye. He was crouched down in the hot undergrowth of the South American jungle, barrel of his M4A1 pointed down the length of the vine covered bridge. Two teammates came up behind him, and one passed to find cover behind a mossy stump of a boulder. Dillon lowered the stock of his weapon and weaved his way toward the bridge as the other two covered. He dropped to the ground and lay prone, his rifle aimed down the other side of the bridge. Two teammates hustled down the bridge and took up cover positions as Dillon and the last one made their way up. This Ranger game of leapfrog continued until the four soldiers reached the small village of dirt and straw roofed huts.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Paco?" The man dressed in short sleeved Army Ranger fatigues questioned of a pitiful native. Paco was a loosely used term. 

"No sign of them here." Dillon said, lifting a large clay bowl from the side of a yellow brick hut. 

"No kidding. Let's head back to the LZ for pickup." The commanding officer said, coming out of a small house.

Dillon nodded, and staring at the bowl for a moment, brought it to his nose and sniffed it. His eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Sir, the Rebels were here." Dillon walked toward the Sergeant and handed him the bowl. 

"Smell it, someone was having Tabasco with their food. Don't think any of the native's have a corner store around here."

The Sergeant held it underneath his nose, and looked up at Dillon from underneath his boonie cap, then turned to face the rest of his squad,

"Change of plans, we think the Rebels did come through here. Malcolm get on the radio and request another 6 hours." 

"Awww… God damnit." The radioman muttered.

The Sergeant looked back to Dillon, "You are a sharp son of a bitch."

Dillon was now in the mess hall, his chow time cut short as an officer and a businessman stood in front of him. He stood straight as a rod and saluted them, not even stopping to wipe the tomato sauce from the side of his mouth.

"At ease. You have been selected for testing in a new unit, Corporal Dillon." The officer handed Dillon a stuffed manila folder. Without hesitation Dillon took it, finally wiping his mouth clean.

"I understand you were recommended for your quick thinking. From what I've compiled of your portfolio for Umbrella, you are quite an astute individual. Several missions might have ended in failure without your thoughtfulness." The man said, his praise hinging on trying to court Dillon for a date.

"Thanks, sir. Most of the time it is just luck, though. What is this about Umbrella?" Dillon's expression changed at the mention of the company, a face between intrigue and caution.

"It is confidential. All I can tell say is they will be running some physical and mental tests on you, and you will be transferred to a new unit outside of the Army Rangers. There is also a pay grade increase for this."

"Do I have any say in my change of duties?"  
            "No. Good day, Corporal." The officer stood stiff and saluted Dillon then turned and walked back out the way he came, his suited partner along with him.

*                                                          *                                                          *

Stanley watched the first movements of Coeus with delight. He mirrored the actions of the Tyrant, touching a hand on the cold glass.

  "Son of a bitch. I knew it." Stanley rubbed his fingers against the stastis tube. 

"You understand me. You're communicating. I knew it all along." His eyes glistened as he looked up at his friend. 

"I knew there was more to you," Stanley whispered. Smiling contentedly, Stanley walked off into the laboratory hallways.


	3. Tests

**TESTS**

Stanley walked down the halls of the complex briskly, nearly jogging back toward his quarters. His eyes stayed alert, looking around the corners, staying cautious of others. He used this route to avoid detection every night. There were few cameras along this path and the security guard seldom checked this area. He continued his walk, pushing open then door that read: ULQ. He inhaled to recover his composure and stepped through.

Contact. He had made contact. Just that single twitch of response put him beyond all of the lab's scientists. They spent years working on the T-Virus. In just months Stanley Morris was gaining an emotional response from a different being. It was amazing, after forty-seven years, Stanley finally had found a friend. Only more surprising was where he found it.

Stanley walked towards the end of the corridor, reaching for the door on the left marked: Employee Beds. He touched the doorknob, then heard the voice.

"Hold there."

Stanley held his breath and paused. He turned around after a five second silence, facing Alan McCormick, the head scientist.

"It's eleven-thirty eight, Stan. You aren't in your bed. Where have you been?"

Stanley didn't miss a beat. "Denny's." McCormick's reaction was of total shock and resentment. "Gotta love their hotcakes."

"You know what your problem is Morris? You got no respect for authority."

"Can't hear ya," Stanley said.

"You got no brains and no will. You think that this respectable installation is some damn playground and you can play hide and seek in the boardroom. Overseer Brant won't do his job, but mark my words, I will undermine his authority just to fire your sorry ass."

"Sounds like something you would do."

"I don't like you Stanley. Now, either you got a great big set of balls . . . or you're crazy." Stanley inhaled sharply. McCormick smiled. "It isn't difficult to discover which."

"Well, I'd love to tell ya, Al. But I can't. Too tired. Lugging my balls around gets tiring. Time to turn in." Stan turned around and pushed the door open. "Ciao." Stanley entered the dorm rooms, leaving Alan alone to scowl at nothing.

Alan McCormick hissed as he sucked in his breath. That bastard. Who the fuck did he think he was? Did he think that a simple janitor got away with this shit? Alan vowed that he would get Morris fired, but for now he had more important things to do. He glanced around one final time before looking to the wall.

"Lloyd. Delaney. Out here now," McCormick ordered. Two young scientists spilled out of the adjacent closet.

"Aw feck," Wesley Delaney griped. "Tell me, Alan. What is this shite? I'm tired, can't it wait?"

"No, it _can't_." Alan growled. "I'm the lead scientist. You're pathetic and Lloyd's new. You don't have any grounds to question me on. If you'd stop whining, we could be out by one." Lloyd yawned, his mouth stretching open as his body fully extended. McCormick slapped Lloyd's jaw shut. "That's very rude, Lloyd. Cover your mouth."

"Yes sir," Gary Lloyd groaned.

McCormick waved the two forward. "Let's go."

Lloyd turned to Delaney. "You Brits talk so cool."

"Thanks," Delaney said.

McCormick spun around, "I said now!" Alan's eyelids flickered with rage. Hips tight lips forced his clenched jaws even tighter. A MA-121 cried out in the distance. Lloyd looked to Delaney. They hurried after McCormick.

"Tighter! I said lock him down tighter!" McCormick growled to Lloyd. He waved his hand to gesture at the Tyrant.  "Look at the size of the damn thing! You want him loose? You want those talons shoving into your chest? I'm certain nothing will survive that!"

"I'm wrapping him as tight as I can!" Lloyd pulled at the leather strap around Coeus's wrist, but it budged no further. Alan sneered.

"As 'tight as you can'," Alan whined sardonically, "Isn't going to be good enough. Tighter!"

"Then you do it!"

McCormick took the strap from Lloyd and tugged on it with all of his body. Lloyd smiled as he watched the man struggle. "Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

Alan McCormick whirled around to Lloyd, jabbing his index finger into his face. "Look, you little cock-sucking piece of shit, I'm writing you up. Cross me again and I'll see you fired."

Lloyd took a step back. "Sir, I only meant – "

Their altercation was cut short by Delaney. "Aw hossshite."

"Come again?" Lloyd asked.

Delaney continued, "You chaps may want to take a gander at this." Alan moved away from Lloyd, turning to Wesley. "The things alive."

Coeus rolled his head to the side, then moved it opposite. The maw of the beast opened and shut in a rhythm.

"It's moving," Delaney said.


	4. COEUS FREED

**COEUS FREED **(unfinished)****

After the physical in that typical exam room, Dillon now found himself in a peculiar round and eye burningly white chamber. He was stripped down to a hospital gown, his bare ass facing the five or so scientists lined along the wall behind him. He was never fully informed why he was undergoing this particular part of testing, and he was facing a large reflective window behind which Umbrella and Army superiors must obviously be talking matters over whether he was fit for the special unit or not. A voice came over some invisible speaker in the room,

"Mr. Dillon, please take a seat on the examination table next to you. We are going to be testing your body's resistance to a new viral inoculation."

A cold sweat had begun to form in Dillon's palms, and he felt a stream run down from his armpit. Stiffly, he got up onto the 'table' and sat. It was a contraption, several arms coming out with needles and strange sharp things like out of a science fiction movie. The voice came over the speaker again, asking him to lie down and straighten his legs. Two scientists from the wall came forward, one holding the needle with the so-called inoculation. Lying on the table tensely, Dillon watched as the scientist prepped his arm with an alcohol wipe.

"This won't hurt, but you may feel a bit of discomfort afterward." 

*                                                          *                                                          *

            "Jesus Christ! Get out of the room!"    

            The hulk on the metal slab was now sitting up, its red eyes flickering to life as the three scientists frantically fumbled with the door's seal. Alan and Delaney were wrenching the wheel lock as Lloyd ran across the room to punch the Big Red Button. Everything turned to blinking red and alarms blared as the great Tyrant looked to the two by the door, the muscles in it's enormous jaw flexing. 

            "You fucking idiot, why the fuck did you seal us in?!" Alan screamed as he and Delaney spun the wheel until a sputter of air being released signaled the mechanism unlocking.

            "It's common foocking procedure you bloody fool!" 

            They pulled the heavy door open and Alan quickly shouldered his way out followed by the young English scientist. Lloyd scrambled across the room to follow and run out, but he was cut short as the Tyrant's enormous feet touched the ground just in front of his path. 

            He let out a gasp and stumbled backwards over the tray of scalpels and surgical equipment, his palm instantly slicing open on the tools. He screamed, holding his white and gushing red hand as the monster loomed just over him. The Tyrant's body suddenly twitched at the noise, and in pure reflex it raised the broad side of its right across its chest and silenced the human. 

            Delaney's eyes dilated at the sight of the Tyrant raising its claw and the red lines that stained the wall after the slash. He knew that Lloyd had just been torn apart. 

            "Come on!" Alan screamed, grabbing Delaney's arm and pulling him out of the room. The thick steel door was left open as the two scientists ran without looking back. 


End file.
